


Slow Down

by DeviyudeThoolika



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Lingering uncertainty, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, exploring the ace spectrum, introvert yibo, tender yearning self :), thank you prompter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviyudeThoolika/pseuds/DeviyudeThoolika
Summary: “Maybe you’re… asexual?”  he hears a girl’s voice ask and holds himself still.   “Or gay?” the girl’s voice drops to a soft whisper, but he still hears it.“Maybe.”  The answering voice is deep.  Even for a guy, it’s deep.  “Or maybe… I’m not… interested?”-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------College AU. Yibo and XZ meet at a house party, XZ overhearing Yibo turn down a girl.  Communications ensue, some better and some worse than others.  Slow burn.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Comments: 68
Kudos: 429
Collections: BJYX Prompt Fest 2020





	Slow Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [need](https://archiveofourown.org/users/need/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [need](https://archiveofourown.org/users/need/pseuds/need) in the [bjyx_fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjyx_fest) collection. 



> Dear prompter,  
> I adore your prompt. Lingering uncertainty and tender yearning self... you captured an entire era of my life... I am not sure if this ff does your prompt justice, but hopefully it has something that you like. - Devi 
> 
> Prompt: [listen to me. college au, like xz's still older but not 6 years older. there's this constant lingering feeling of uncertainty regarding everything they do (no i'm not projecting), and just a short drabble/fic about like them meeting and holding each other up and slowly moving forward in life as you do. i don't know, just slice of life. some sense of comfort, maybe. they meet at a house party, or wherever you want, i just think wyb being some sort of reckless fiend passed out on the lawn of some dude who is throwing a house party and xz wandering into back where he sees yibo just lying there face up staring at the stars will make a pretty scene. mellow, maybe? lit up by the streetlamps and the porchlight but that's it. and they aren't doing too much, or anything. just, being there. sort of. and slowly they don't exactly become friends, just comfort spaces for each other and then get together? angst is fine! pining is beautiful! i don't know! i just want some college au to sooth my uncertain but tender yearning self! you can make as many changes as you like as long as it follows the "don't want" list below. bonus points if a character (any character) is asexual heuheu.]  
> \--------------

He wonders if there was something in the apple cider that they had passed around earlier as he gently lowers himself next to the enormous tree trunk, wanting to settle his head for a bit. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but when he lifts his head again, twilight is falling and the racket from inside the house seems quieter than before. Maybe the cider wasn’t spiked, but just his lack of sleep over the past week catching up with him. He lifts his head and inhales slowly. The fall air is crisp and the smell of the citronella torches in the yard blends in, clearing his head. 

“Maybe you’re… asexual?” he hears a girl’s voice ask and holds himself still. He wonders if he had fallen asleep for a bit, because he hadn’t heard anyone come into the yard. “Or gay?” the girl’s voice drops to a soft whisper, but he still hears it. 

“Maybe.” The answering voice is deep. Even for a guy, it’s deep. “Or maybe… I’m not… interested?” 

Ouch. Savage.

He hears a slight gasp and tries to not even breathe. There is humiliation and then there is humiliation with a witness.

A moment later, there is movement and then footfalls rushing off and growing distant. 

He sighs and puts his head back against the bark behind him. 

He shouldn’t have come. This was hardly his scene. He didn’t drink often. And House wasn’t his music of choice under even the strangest of circumstances. 

And now that he had overheard some douchebag crush a poor girl’s ego, it was time to call it an evening and head home. Once he waits a few minutes, he gets up and dusts off the back of his jeans. His roommate was somewhere inside. He assumed Wen Qing wanted to stay longer. There was someone here she had been talking to for some time that she was hoping would advance today to beyond talking. He could find his way back himself.

He rounds the tree and almost bumps into a prone form on the grass. 

“Oh sor…” he starts, looking down, and then stops.

There is a blond boy on the grass, eyes closed, elbows bent behind his head, ankles crossed at the other end. 

Mr. Savage. 

He backs up and starts to walk away, but hears. “You don’t want to say the whole word?”

He pauses and looks back. The boy’s eyes are open now, staring at him.

He waits a moment, holding that gaze, and then shakes his head.

He turns away again and hears, “Why? Because you think I should’ve told her I was interested?”

That gives him pause. “You knew I was sitting there when you embarrassed her?”

Not just savage then, but an asshole.

“I didn’t. After she left, you sighed. That’s when I knew.”

Well, just savage then.

He shrugs and starts to turn away again.

“Am I running you off your sanctuary?” he hears again and turns back.

“It’s not mine.” 

This time, the rejoinder comes even before he can turn around. “It’s not mine either. And you were here first. We intruded. It’s only right that you get to stay.” The guy sits up now and his floppy blond hair falls around his face in a soft sweep. He brings up a pair of thin rectangular glasses and puts them on. 

“Don’t worry about it. I was leaving anyways. Not really my scene.”

“Hey…” he hears when he starts to turn away again.

He pauses. There is some hesitation now and he sees the guy push back his hair, although they fall over his forehead with a vengeance.

Must be a freshman. And then, he wonders what he is doing at a party with freshmen. Wen Qing’s taste in house parties was starting to become suspect. He should never do this again.

“I’ve… just not gotten very good at… saying no.” the guy says and Xiao Zhan’s eyes widen in surprise. Someone who was propositioned so much that he felt he needed to get good at saying _No_. And still just a freshman. 

“I really don’t see what business that is of mine. So, don’t worry about it.” He says and this time turns away before the guy can say anything else. 

When he walks inside, Wen Qing is rubbing the back of some girl who is sobbing onto her shoulder. 

He raises an eyebrow and Wen Qing shakes her head over the bent head and gestures to the girl in panic.

He tilts his head and Wen Qing gestures across the room.

He looks over and sees Wen Qing’s love interest, Jin Su, getting a drink.

He looks back and splays his hands open. And she shows her pleading eyes. He sighs and walks over.

“Hey…” he says quietly when he reaches them.

“Hey Xiao Zhan, this is Lu Enjie; she is from my hometown. She is like a mei mei to me. Some junior boy broke her heart and we need a really nice specimen of the male sex to reassure her that not all of you are lost causes. Would you mind helping her get a drink?” 

The girl sniffles into Wen Qing’s shoulder once more, but then lifts her head. 

“Hey…” she says, absently glancing in his direction, and then looking again. 

He knows that voice. He had just heard it outside. 

And now he feels obligated to reinstate the girl’s faith in his species, although really, in no way is he the man for the job except in the most platonic. 

But platonic was good.

“Hey” he returns, offering her his kindest smile. “I am not drinking tonight. But I can get you something you want.”

She smiles a slight smile. “I don’t drink. Maybe the cider?”

“Hmm… I have a slight suspicion that cider is spiked. You want a seltzer instead?’’

She nods, finally moving out of Wen Qing’s hold.

A half hour later finds him listening to the entire saga of Lu Enjie’s relationship with a certain Wang Yibo, aka Mr. Savage, who it turns out is not a freshman, but a junior.

Although admittedly, even with her slight embellishments, it’s clear that there is really no relationship to speak of other than a sort of ardent admiration on her part that he has been evidently rebuffing (not unkindly, it seems) for weeks. 

“Maybe he’s just not worth this level of perseverance. I mean, you’re just a freshman. It’s a wide campus. There’s plenty of fish in this sea. Believe me.”

“But no one like Wang Yibo.” Lu Enjie is convinced.

“How can you be sure?” 

“Oh, you don’t understand Xiao Zhan, he’s really a sweetheart.”

“He told you he’s not interested.”

“It might be that he’s gay or asexual.”

“Why do you think that?”

“What other reason would he have to not want me?”

He tries not to sigh. Maybe he had been a tad bit unfair to Mr. Savage.

“Maybe he’s not interested?” he asks.

And now she swallows. “You think so?”

“Well, it is what he said, right?”

She bursts into sobs, putting her head against this shoulder. He feels compelled to pat her on the back with a “there there…”

How the hell did he get into these situations? 

He raises his eyes over Lu Enjie’s head to find Wen Qing. She is happily chatting with Jin Su who is now leaning against her quite familiarly. He sighs and starts to look away when he notices the blond hair staring straight at him. 

From this distance, he can barely see those no-frame glasses and he glares at him accusingly for the problem on his hands, literally.

To his surprise, Mr. Savage starts walking in their direction. Halfway to him, Xiao Zhan’s glare turns into question, and then he shakes his head, urging the guy to walk away. It’s clear that Mr. Savage sees the gesture, but he doesn’t heed it and only stops when he is right next to them.

When Lu Enjie notices, she looks up in surprise. 

Wang Yibo looks at her and says, “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. Really. But, I… just didn’t want to give you false hope.”

She sniffles and Wang Yibo adds, “But you were right though.”

“About what?” she asks.

Wang Yibo looks in his direction and then back at Lu Enjie and tells her, “I’m gay. And possibly asexual.” 

His eyes widen and he hears Lu Enjie exclaim, “Oh wow, I knew it! What did I tell you?” she looks at him to ask, a light in her eyes now. 

Oh wow. 

She looks back at Wang Yibo. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” 

Wang Yibo nods. 

Lu Enjie looks at him now, this time with interest. “You’re a sweetheart. What’s your name again?”

“Xiao Zhan.” He says.

“Thank you so much. Wen Qing really has the best friends.” She gives him a quick hug before walking off, presumably recovered now that she knows that it’s not her lack of appeal that led to the rejection.

Xiao Zhan shakes his head and turns around to the table to get a glass of water. 

When he turns back around, Wang Yibo is still there. 

“Lying was unnecessary, I think.” He says. He is not convinced of it though, but as a gay person himself, he objects to heteros hiding behind such excuses to hand out rejections.

“I didn’t lie.” 

He stops drinking and pulls the cup back from his mouth as he looks at the guy. Those eyes are steady as they hold his gaze.

“About which part?” he asks.

“All of it.”

He tilts his head again.

“Not interested. Gay. Possibly asexual.” 

“Oh.” Xiao Zhan responds. Then nods. He is a little… at loss for words.

“I’m Wang Yibo.” Mr. Savage extends his hand.

Did people still shake hands? At house parties with weird techno music playing?’

He extends his own in return and notice that the blond with the soft eyes had hands that are oddly disproportionate to his body. Like hugely disproportionate. He tries not to stare as he pulls his hand back.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks. As if this is his party.

Yibo shakes his head, but then says, “I was actually thinking of leaving.” 

“Oh ok.” He nods. “Have a good night then.”

“I thought you were too.” Yibo says then and it takes him back. He did want to leave. He still wanted to leave.

“Yes, I’m leaving too.”

“If you don’t mind, we can walk back together.” Yibo says again, surprising him.

“I don’t live on campus though.” He says.

“I don’t either.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. Sorry. I didn’t mean to impose.”

Umm…

“I live on the east end row.” He says, letting Yibo decide if that is near or far from where he is. 

“I’m about two blocks from there. By Maple Terrace.”

That’s a good fifteen-minute walk from their current venue, Yibo farther by another five. 

“Okay.” He says, throwing his empty cup in the recycling bin.

“Let me quickly say bye to my roommate. I think she wants to stay.” 

Yibo nods. “I’ll meet you out front then.”

Wen Qing is in full make-out mode with Jin Su and he does a quick wave thing to her and she nods with a wink and a smile.

When he gets outside, Yibo is there, waiting, wearing a light jean jacket over his thin t-shirt. He is a really lanky guy, maybe a couple of inches shorter than his own six feet, but somehow that is only evident once they stand right next to each other.

When they start walking, a sort of silence ensues and he wonders what he is doing. Why did Wang Yibo even suggest this? He is not sure. Maybe…

“You know, if you think I thought badly of you before, don’t worry. That was simply a bit of premature judgment on my part. You don’t have to worry. It’s been rectified.”

Yibo rubs a hand behind his neck and then has a shy smile, which he would have missed had he not happened to look over at the exact moment it appeared. It’s gone as quickly as it arrived. 

It makes him ask, teasingly. “Do you make it a habit to announce to strangers that you’re gay and possibly asexual?”

When he looks over, there’s a flush to Yibo’s neck and another smile appears as he shakes his head. 

“I think I came across as really arrogant, when in reality I’m only slightly conceited.”

It’s offered with such deadpan that it takes a moment to hit, and then he laughs. 

When he looks over, Yibo smiles. Again. It’s a sweet smile. 

“Well, she told me her whole story with you, so I was regretting my rush to judgment way sooner than you coming over.”

“Did she really?” Yibo asks, looking over in surprise.

He nods. 

Yibo sighs. “I’m not really a social person. Or even someone who comes across as _nice_. I’m too quiet generally to even be all that interesting. So, I’m always a little taken aback when unexpected people show interest in me.”

“Maybe it’s your looks.” He offers, only because it’s so self-evident.

Yibo looks over, adjusting his glasses. “I think it’s the blond hair. I have an aunt in beauty school. This was her summer experiment. She needed virgin hair. None of my cousins met the criteria. So, I was it. Quite unwise, in hindsight.”

Yibo says it so seriously that Xiao Zhan laughs. Yibo looks over in surprise. “You think so too?”

“What? The blond hair being an unwise choice for someone who doesn’t like attention?”

Yibo purses his lips and then smiles. “Well, when you say it like that, yes, indeed… what was I thinking?”

“Well, enjoy it while you have it.”

Yibo is quiet and when he looks over, Yibo has his lips pursed together like a duck, an absent-minded gesture.

And he thinks that Yibo might have slightly bigger problems with attracting attention than just the blond hair.

“What’s your major?” he asks. Theirs was a decent sized campus, but it seems unlikely that he had gone all this time without ever seeing Yibo on campus, especially if this was his third year here. 

“Engineering. Yours?” 

“Well, that explains why I have not seen you around. Mine’s Fine Arts and Media.” 

“I’m a transfer, actually. Just started here in September.” Yibo says.

“Oh.” That’s a way more plausible reason.

“Yea, grew up in a small town and really thought I wanted to get away. So went to the other end of the country and in a tale as old as time, did not take into account how introverted I really am. Held it together for two years only to not admit defeat to my family and then couldn’t do it anymore and got this transfer.”

“Oh. How far away is your family now?” he asks. His own was only an hour.

“Like 2 hours’ drive. Way better than an 8-hour flight.” 

“Wow, you really went far.” He looks over. 

Yibo nods. “I was always a bit of a coddled child. And I really didn’t want to be. So, it was my way of cutting the proverbial cord. I probably should have just stretched it than take a scissors to it.”

“Well, hindsight is 20/20.”

“I guess.” Yibo says, not sounding fully convinced. “You?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“Did you have any moments needing hindsight to make it 20/20?”

“Hmm..” he says, smiling. “I’m sure. Who doesn’t?”

“Moving across the country is not one of them?”

“No” he shakes his head. “I grew up about an hour from here. Most of my friends went to colleges within an hour or two drive from home. I knew I would be too homesick if I went too much farther.”

“Hmm…” Yibo says. 

And it occurs to him that Yibo has offered a lot more about him that he has about himself. Which is the reason, he thinks, he says, “As for the 20/20 situation, I am sure that has happened in at least one relationship.”

“Oh yea?” Yibo asks. “Took you some time to figure out you were not into her?”

Actually…

“Yea, something like that.” He answers.

Yibo nods. 

“And here I am.” He says, stopping.

Yibo looks up at the row of brownstones. “This is nice.” He says.

“Wen Qing and I are on the second floor.” 

Yibo nods.

“How about you? Have a roommate?”

Yibo shakes his head. “I have a studio.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I mean, I love living with Wen Qing, but it would be lovely to have a studio for all my easels and other stuff so that I don’t have to run to campus all the time.”

“You paint here?” Yibo pointed up to the second floor.

“A bit. Not so much. My room is taken up by half the stuff anyways, I don’t want to lose my space for a bed too.”

“What do you paint?” 

“Well, nothing really freeform anymore. There’re too many things to do for my classes to actually think of painting for pleasure.”

“Oh.” Yibo says. “Hmm… I don’t think I’ve actually seen a real artist’s real paintings. Dead guys don’t count, I mean.”

Yibo says that so seriously that he laughs. “You’re welcome to look at what I have. There’s a few here, but most are a few years old so not the best work.”

Yibo doesn’t say anything for a moment, and he feels that maybe that had been too forward. “I mean, don’t feel obligated. Really. It’s nothing much. And it’s late anyways and you should probably get going…”

“Sure.” Yibo cuts him off.

“Yea?” he asks.

Yibo nods.

It’s only when he’s walking upstairs that he wonders what the common area looks like. Wen Qing is not the neatest kitten on the block and sometimes he has to do a little picking up after her.

When he opens the door, fortunately, it’s not too bad. 

He opens the door to his room and goes to the windows to crack it open a little. He always runs a few degrees warmer than normal and it’s not unusual even in the dead of winter for him to want to open the window if only to take a few deep breaths in. Autumn is perfect in every way for him. The air, the breeze, the colors, the holidays, even the commercialized pumpkin lattes don’t bother him too much. 

“Wow.” Yibo says, looking around the room. 

He looks around the room to try to assess it from an outsider’s perspective, an engineer’s perspective… there’s a segment of the wall that is entirely wooden paneling. Some tenant of the past had felt strongly enough to install an entire wall of it. He loved it. On it hung a rather large [painting](https://twitter.com/readerswriter/status/1206124099195400197?s=20) he had done some time ago. It was a beach, almost at twilight, mostly in darker hues of blue and teal with a bit of the rust of a sunset in the distance. There’s someone standing on the shore with a cat pawing nearby. Someone else was walking along the edge of the water a distance away, a cycle perched nearby on the sand. 

When he looks at Yibo, he is staring at the painting. He starts to say something, but then stops when he catches Yibo’s expression. It doesn’t seem like the type of thing non-artists usually did when they saw someone’s paintings, the obligatory awe and kind words or praise that followed. Something about it always rang hollow in his ears. But Yibo was staring at the painting like he was having a religious experience. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

It takes Yibo a moment to look at him, but when he does, his eyes are strange. 

He moves forward instinctively out of concern, but Yibo backs away. “I… I just remembered that I have to go back home.” 

“Oh…” He is so caught off-guard that he is not sure of what to say.

Yibo is still standing there as if waiting for permission to leave and he remembers to nod. “Sure, sure, go ahead.”

And Yibo leaves. A moment later, he hears the door to his apartment close. He looks out of his window and sees when Yibo comes out the entrance down below. Just before he gets to the road outside though, Yibo turns back to look up. He is at the window, so Yibo can see him. It’s another strange moment when they hold each other’s gaze before Yibo is gone.

He looks back at the painting now to see what about it was so offensive. He knew it wasn’t the greatest painting he had done by any stretch of the imagination, there were too many things that could have used more time and patience, but there was a certain sentiment to it that he appreciated, like he had captured for eternity an exact moment in his life that will never come again. He wondered if the engineer in Yibo was offended by some specific aspect ratio issue. A few moments later, he decides it doesn’t matter. It’s unlikely he will run into Yibo anytime soon. 

xxxxx

He does though, just a week later, at the campus library. Yibo works there, shelving books. 

Xiao Zhan is walking through the aisle that holds a small section on ancient Indian arts, particularly the sculptures of Khajuraho, when he finds Yibo there, standing next to the rolling cart, perusing some hard-bound volume of… Yibo turns a bit to adjust his hold on the book and he sees one of Frida Kahlo’s self-portraits on the front. Interesting reading for an engineer.

He is about to back away when Yibo looks up.

“Hey.” he says, pausing.

“Hey…” Yibo returns, closing the book in his hand.

Okay, yes, definitely not. The nonverbals were all telling him what the kid likely had difficulty doing verbally.

“Don’t mind me. Just passing through.” He turns around to walk away.

“Please don’t leave.” he hears Yibo and pauses. 

When he turns around, he sees Yibo push up his glasses a bit. “I’m sorry about the last time.”

He smiles a smile he doesn’t feel. “It’s okay. Art is a personal thing. Not everything is everyone’s cup of tea. I didn’t take offense.”

Yibo is quiet.

He thinks of something to say to smooth over the silence, awkward as it was, but he is all tapped out. And so he turns around and leaves.

xxxxxx

The next day, he returns for the book early on during the day and is glad when he doesn’t see Yibo. He grabs the book and looks through it to see if there are enough photographs of the sculptures on the temple to do his paper on the shift in perspective towards the interface between the divine and the sensual in ancient Indian art pre- and post- colonization. 

It’s not a busy time, as early as it was on a Friday morning. There’s no one at the check-out counter and he has to ring the little bell there to get someone to come. It’s just his luck that it’s Yibo who walks out from the backroom. Things are so awkward now that he nods instead of saying anything and passes over the book. He glances down to not make further eye contact and then realizes that not just the inside of the book, but even the cover is plastered with three rows of the Khajuraho sculptures. They are of gods and goddesses in various states of undress, with body proportions that are… well, not really human… and in all different versions of… copulation. He wonders where his eyes should look instead of Yibo and the naked gods, but by then Yibo is done and passing the book back to him. He mutters a thanks, but doesn’t look back at Yibo as he leaves.

The library has been ruined.

Xxxxxx

The next time Wen Qing asks him to go to a party, he declines. 

“But it’s at a gay bar, Xiao Zhan. Come on. They’ll have music you like.”

The idea is not without merit. His paper on Khajuraho had been more difficult than he anticipated when he had chosen the topic and he had written it on and off for about 25 hours in the past three days, doing two other project work in between and with very little sleep. On top of all that, now he found himself occasionally looking at his beach painting hanging on the wooden panel and wondering what had been so egregious as to turn an entire evening sour within a minute. He has to tell himself to stop the rumination, although unfortunately, he is not that great at listening to himself.

And so he goes.

It’s just his luck that Wang Yibo is there. The place is small, but with two floors, and dark to boot. Yibo is there with several people, so it’s easy enough to avoid detection for most of the night. Wen Qing is now officially with Jin Su and they’ve been at it in a corner for most of the night. He runs into a few people he knows and by the time he is done mingling and making his way over to the bar, it’s after 12. The music is good, the swaying kind, and the glass of wine he gets mellows him out enough that he forgets about Yibo. Until Yibo appears at the very bar to order a drink. There are at least two people between him and Yibo, but Yibo’s unmistakable voice gives him away. Xiao Zhan takes the last two sips of wine in one gulp and leaves a tip under the glass, gets up, and makes his way across the room to the back exit. 

The air hits him in a strong gust when he opens the door and he closes it behind him, sighing in pleasure. He loves the feeling of coming out of a hot crowded place into this. He thought the best moments in life were during these crossovers from one thing to its opposite, those moments when you grasped the complement perfectly. 

He is not wearing a coat and he knows the light button-down he has on would soon prove too thin for the late fall weather, but until the last of that moment arrives, he is willing to stand here.

A minute later the door opens again. 

Without looking, he knows who it is.

And so he doesn’t glance back.

“Hey.” he hears Yibo’s voice and closes his eyes and sighs internally before turning to the side to nod.

He wishes he had a cigarette habit so that it gave his hand and mouth something to do without having to respond any further. 

It doesn’t matter, he could just go back inside without allowing this… _whatever this was_ … to get worse. 

Just as he is about to open the door though, he catches Yibo’s expression. He stops.

“Can I see it again?” Yibo asks without preamble. 

“See what?” he asks.

“The painting on your wall.” 

That gaze is serious. And so he feels the need to ask, “Are you sure?”

Yibo nods.

“Now?” he asks.

“If it’s okay with you.”

They take a cab back to his apartment, staying silent the entire way.

And they remain that way while walking up the stairs and walking to his room.

He turns on the lamp in the room and once again goes to open his window, this time leaning against its bars and looking out. 

Whatever Yibo came here to do, he will allow him to do. It seemed a solitary matter anyways. Even though it’s his room, he feels like he is intruding and he wonders whether he should leave.

“I didn’t know…” he hears behind him and turns.

“I didn’t know that someone could… um…” Yibo starts again and then stops. He closes his eyes and clears his throat and then opens them again. “Umm… is it okay if I’m weird about it and not try to put it into words?”

Now he turns around fully, leaning back against the ledge.

Yibo is looking at him intently and he nods.

“Sorry… um. For intruding.” Yibo turns to leave, catching him by surprise.

“Wait.” He calls out. It occurs to him now that maybe he hadn’t really thought that Yibo came here to see the painting. Until this moment, that is.

Yibo pauses and turns around.

“Art is an individual experience. Sorry for making you feel weird about it by acting awkward before.” He offers. That much, he thinks, he should.

Yibo shakes his head. “I’m the one who made it weird. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

They stay there awkwardly for a moment and he says, “You can stay a bit longer if you would like. I mean, unless your friends are waiting for you back at the bar?”

“It’s okay, I told them I’m catching a ride home.”

“Okay.” He says. He stays by the window and waits. Yibo moves inside the room and stands against the wall, looking back at the painting again. 

A moment later, he looks back and asks, “You said you have other ones.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to see other ones?”

Yibo nods. 

He watches Yibo for a moment before moving to pull out the other ones he had in the room. Yibo looks through all of them, smiling at some that were a bit more animation-ish, but does not have the same reaction that he had to the painting on the wall.

“I don’t really know much about art at all.” He says after a while when they’re sitting on the floor by the window. There is a full moon outside, although the lamp in his room is too bright to really let in the moonlight. If he had been alone, he would have turned off the lamp and sat here, just staring at the sky.

There are more silences than conversation that night, although surprisingly it doesn’t bother either of them that much. Maybe compared to the past couple of weeks, this no longer meets the threshold for peak awkwardness. 

An hour later, they hear Wen Qing and Jin Su come in and even through their closed door they hear the clear noises of things in progress – a bit of kissing and hushed whispers – and the threshold finally hits and Yibo gets up saying that he should be heading home. 

“I’ll walk you.” He offers.

It looks like Yibo thinks of refusing and then there is a louder moan from outside and Yibo nods, realizing maybe that the walk is not really a favor.

They walk the first block together in silence, although Xiao Zhan is too preoccupied to notice. He doesn’t really know what occupies his thoughts though.

“Is the painting a scene that you drew, like an actual one?” Yibo asks, startling him out of his reverie.

He shakes his head. “I did it really sort of on a whim. I used to have a cat, she is there, but otherwise, it’s random.”

Yibo nods.

“I really like it.” Yibo says finally and Xiao Zhan smiles. “Thank you. I like it too.”

And then, they’re at Yibo’s place. 

When he waves to Yibo and turns around, he hears a hesitant, “Do you want to stay? I mean… if you would rather not go back when they are…” 

He has roomed with Wen Qing for two years. This won’t be the first or last time she brings people home. He’d brought someone home too, although it’s been a while since the last time. 

He knows he should decline. Yibo likely expects him to decline. Maybe. He’s not sure. He’s not even sure what’s going on between them. 

“I’m not sure if you’re bothered that I’m gay. I won’t like… you know, make a move on you or anything.” Yibo says now with a nervous laugh. 

“Why would I be bothered that you’re gay?” he asks, confused.

Both of Yibo’s eyebrows go up at that and he adjusts his glasses. “Umm… I think maybe straight guys are bothered to be in… um… close quarters with gay guys?”

What.

“What?’ he asks. There were several fallacies with that statement that he doesn’t know which one to address first.

“You have a lot of straight guy friends?” he asks instead.

Yibo nods. “But I don’t advertise my gender preference to them really. And besides, I am much more comfortable with them.”

 _What_.

“Why?” he asks.

“I… um… don’t really like to be hit on. So…”

_Oh._

“Then how do you know you’re gay?” 

“Umm…” Yibo runs his fingers through his hair, messing them up into soft waves. “I have only been attracted to guys.”

“But you don’t like them to hit on you?”

There is a pause before Yibo says, “I don’t think so. I don’t really like to be touched, in that way. It’s weird, I know.”

Oh. Wow. He did not understand. But he nods.

“So, you, um, prefer to hang out with straight people, because of that.” He says, understanding at least that part.

“Something like that.” Yibo nods, looking down.

“Yibo.” He calls.

Yibo looks up.

“I’m gay.” 

He sees Yibo’s eyes widen. 

It seems they are doomed to be awkward forever.

He nods again and says, “See you around, Yibo.” And walks away before Yibo can say anything else. Although he is pretty goddamn sure that Yibo has nothing else to say.

xxxxxxxxx

He thinks briefly of avoiding the library, but that’s stupid. It’s not like he and Yibo ever had a relationship. All they really had were a few awkward conversations. Nothing to write home about. The next few times of seeing each other are bound to be awkward. But then it won’t be. Because they don’t know each other like that anyways. 

And so he returns to the library. He doesn’t see Yibo that week or the next. Then he does, from across the floor of the library. Yibo is standing between two shelves, this time in the Ancient History section. The rolling cart with books is next to him, but he is flipping through the pages of a book in his hand. Xiao Zhan avoids that area until it’s time to leave.

The library sightings continue for another two weeks, and he is sure that Yibo sees him most of those times too, but Yibo also gives him a wide berth and thus he doesn’t have to worry about awkward interactions.

After that, he doesn’t see Yibo at the library anymore and he wonders if he has quit.

Two weeks later, Wen Qing throws a party in their apartment and it’s one of those parties that seem to expand by the hour, with friends of friends of friends of friends trickling in slowly. 

At close to ten, Yibo comes with two seniors that Xiao Zhan knows through Wen Qing. They are both straight guys, so it turns out Yibo wasn’t kidding. 

He says hello to them as a group and then moves on. Although, when twenty minutes go by and he can’t stop obsessing about the fact that Yibo is somewhere in the apartment, he finally escapes to his room, shutting the door behind him. He keeps the lamp off and opens his window. The air is no longer crisp, but has a bite to it, and he appreciates it on this night of all nights. It’s a half moon and it seems farther away than usual, but it will do.

Ten minutes later, he hears a knock on his door and yells out ‘come in’. There may be some introverts at this party looking to hide out in smaller spaces.

He hears the door open and then close and turns around to see Yibo’s form in the semi darkness, standing just inside the door.

“What do you want, Yibo?” he asks, turning back around to look out the window.

“I think I may have offended you the last time.”

“It is what it is.” He says.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.” 

“And what way is that?” he asks with a chuckle.

It takes a moment, but then Yibo says, “I didn’t mean to imply that all gay guys hit on me.”

He chuckles again, staring out the window. This conversation was starting to border on the absurd.

“Water under the bridge.” He says. He doesn’t turn around. He hopes Yibo takes it as the dismissal it’s meant to be. 

“I’m ordinarily not good with words, but with you I seem to be exceptionally bad.” Yibo says. 

He is surprised at this conclusion. “You did pretty well that first day.”

“Did I?” 

“Hmm.”

“You mean, the same day that you thought I tried to tell a girl point-blank that I’m not into her.”

“Well, she did try to assume that your disinterest was based solely on your sexual orientation.”

“You know, I actually sort of liked that she was so confident. In a platonic way.” Yibo laughs a soft laugh.

He doesn’t laugh. “You wouldn’t really like that if it was non-platonic, would you?” 

He doesn’t expect an answer to the question and Yibo doesn’t give one, falling quiet again.

When he doesn’t leave, Xiao Zhan finally turns around and leans back against the window ledge, sighing.

“What do you want from me, Yibo?”

Yibo doesn’t answer.

“I thought we had sort of silently arrived at the conclusion that we had reached an impasse of no return. Even if we wanted to resuscitate our initial fledgling connection, maybe that’s a strong word… but you get what I mean… even if we wanted to do that, I don’t think I would stop being conscious about even inadvertently making you feel uncomfortable. Like if I were to smile a certain way or make a certain joke or… I guess just be myself in so many ways, I would worry that I was giving you the wrong impression. That sort of thing makes for a poor friendship. Don’t you think?”

He can’t quite see Yibo’s face fully, but the very air between them shifts.

“I’m sorry I gave you that impression.” Yibo says.

“I don’t think it’s an impression. I’m glad you were truthful, even if it hadn’t been intentional. If I had found out later on about how you felt, I think I would have felt even worse.”

He thinks he sees Yibo nod and then he opens the door and leaves.

xxxxxx

He doesn’t see Yibo again until a month later when he is at his department’s computer lab and notices him sitting in the student assistant’s chair. 

The blond hair is gone and instead, now it’s a dark brown. If possible, this suits him even better. After the initial sighting, he no longer glances Yibo’s way as he settles himself at the computer station farthest from Yibo’s seat. Each station is separated by its own cubicle, giving him some cover. The lab gets busier late morning as the end of the semester is nearing and it’s easy enough to forget that Yibo is even there. 

It takes him a while to notice the two guys murmuring next to him, sometime later, and it only really catches his interest because he hears, “He used to be blond. Yea. Looks even cuter this way, right?” He puts his headphones on for the rest of the time he is there and by the time he leaves, there are three students next to Yibo’s chair with various requests. He comes to the lab often for projects and he has never seen another student assistant get these many help requests. 

He has two projects that requires the use of the specific software on those particular computers in his department building; otherwise, he would find another lab to work at. And so he suffers through several days of ever-increasing traffic to the lab, having to go in earlier and earlier to acquire the seat farthest from the student assistant chair. Yibo is not there every day, but that doesn’t seem to stem the traffic of students coming to get a sighting. His headphones help to tune it all out.

When he gets there the next Friday afternoon, it’s a different student assistant and the lab is only half full. His regular seat is empty so he takes it, pulling his headphones out. He works for a stretch of six or seven hours before deciding to take a break and by then notices that night has fallen. The heating vent is close to him and on full-blast and he wishes he could take off his sweater. When he peeks around, the lab is mostly empty and he does remove the sweater. He only has a thin white t-shirt on underneath and ordinarily wouldn’t walk around in such clothing in public.

He takes a quick bathroom and snack break and returns with a bottle of ice-cold water. There is no one left at the lab now except the assistant and he wonders when they will also be gone. The lab is open until almost midnight and he expects to stay for almost the whole time.

It’s only when he re-enters the lab and looks over to the student assistant’s chair to nod in their direction that he notices that it’s no longer the person from when he first arrived, but Yibo. He pauses mid-nod, then tells himself to act like an adult, completes the nod and then moves onto his station. Except his monitor is blank and not responding to commands to turn back on. He last saved his work a half hour ago and curses himself for not doing it right before he left. He checks all the regular culprits and when none seem to make any difference, he is forced to acknowledge that he may need help from the assistant.

“You think you can help me out?” he calls out in Yibo’s direction.

Yibo walks over and looks at the computer without looking at him. He vacates his chair and gestures for Yibo to sit there so that he is not bending over awkwardly. Yibo fiddles with some things for about five minutes before the computer turns back on. 

“I don’t think I saved my work within the last half-hour.” He says. Yibo had stood up by then, but now opens up the most recent document and asks him to check. It turns out he _had_ saved it.

He exhales in relief and mutters a quick, “Thank you.”

He waits for Yibo to move back a bit so he can take his seat, but Yibo stands right by his chair, forcing him to look up.

Except Yibo’s gaze is not on his face, but on his collar bone visible above his white t-shirt.

His hand comes up to cover that area unconsciously and Yibo looks up at his face, startled. There’s a flush on Yibo’s cheeks, he doesn’t know whether it’s from being caught staring or from… something else.

“Thank you.” He says again, louder, as if that would cover the awkwardness.

It strikes him then that they are alone in the lab. The wall to his left is covered half in glass and he looks out to see the parking lot outside with its well-placed lamps.

“You quit the job at the library?” he asks, turning back to Yibo.

Yibo shakes his head. “They let me go.”

“They let you go?” Why?” 

_Who gets fired from the library??_

Yibo smiles. “They said I took too much time to put away the books. Everyone else could do two or three carts in the time I did one.”

He stares for a moment and then laughs. “That’s preposterous. Why else would someone want to work in the library if not for their interest in books?”

Yibo tilts his head. “You… knew I was reading?” 

“What else would you be doing?”

“I think they think that… you know…”

He shakes his head.

“That I might have taken the time to have hookups or something, who knows. Apparently, they had gotten multiple requests asking for the student with the blond hair working there.”

He purses his mouth for a moment and then bursts out laughing. Yibo is taken aback for a moment before he too laughs. “I have no idea who any of these people are. I haven’t even talked to anyone at the library. But I do take a really long time getting through the shelving, so it seemed only right that they let me go.”

“Wow, stalked at the library and forced to quit. You lead an interesting life, Yibo.”

Yibo smiles, but also fidgets.

“Is that why the blond hair is gone?” he asks, smiling.

“It was just more than I could handle. I don’t know how blonds deal with it. Don’t they get tired?” 

Yibo sounds so serious that he has to say it. Poor guy cannot go his whole life without knowing this. 

“Yibo, I don’t think it’s the blond hair.”

“What is it then?” he asks, tilting his head.

Xiao Zhan tilts his head too. “You can’t be that unaware, come on. Even among good-looking people, you’re in a league of your own. Blond or brown. It’s just unfortunate that you seem to have absolutely no appreciation for it.”

“Do you?” Yibo asks.

“What? Have appreciation for your looks?” he asks.

“No, have appreciation for _your_ looks.” 

“Mine?” He asks, eyes wide. “Mine are nothing extraordinary.”

“They are.” Yibo says simply.

He doesn’t know what to say to that. And so, he laughs and turns away, looking outside once again. 

“It’s getting dark. What time can you clock out?” 

“An hour ago.” Yibo says.

He turns back. “Oh.” He pauses. “Oh.” He says again, understanding, he thinks, although he’s not sure. He doesn’t understand a lot of things about Yibo. And so he says, “I’m okay. I have been here alone until midnight many times. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not staying for you.” Yibo says.

Of course not. He shouldn’t have said anything. Clearly, he has learned nothing from their past interactions.

“Indeed.” He answers. “I didn’t mean…” he starts, but Yibo cuts him off.

“I’m staying because I want to spend time with you. If that’s okay with you.”

What did that mean? With anyone else, the meaning would be abundantly clear, but with Yibo, it’s not clear. And he is not about to attempt to clarify and bring on another epoch of awkwardness. There was just not enough time left in the semester for that.

So he nods. 

“I know you have work. I do too. But maybe I can sit here?” Yibo asks, gesturing to the computer station to his right.

He nods.

Yibo goes to get his things and sets up right next to him. 

In his mind, he goes through what he knows about Yibo.

He is gay. He does not like to be touched, “in that way” at least. He likes hanging out with straight guys because they didn’t touch him like that. He has not learned how to say ‘no’ to people hitting on him, evidently it having happened enough times to think that he should have learned a way. He had been homesick the first two years of college. Trusted his aunt enough to let her bleach his hair. Had actually gotten a job at the campus library because he liked to read. Is an engineer-in-training. Had an insanely crazy reaction to a relatively benign painting. Did not particularly enjoy attention on him. Was an introvert. Thought that he was likely asexual. Right. That one. Big one. A bit different from just not liking touch. 

So, no matter what Yibo said, it really did not mean what it would typically mean. He just had to remember that. 

Sure enough, Yibo does focus on his work and Xiao Zhan does his own until it’s 11:30 and he’s beat. 

“You’re tired.” Yibo says before he can say anything.

“Yes.” He laughs, trying to contain a yawn.

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

And he finally admits it. Yibo is a strange mix of endearing and awkward and beautiful that he has a hard time holding to any line that he draws to keep Yibo at a distance. 

“I don’t really understand you.” He says without meaning to, turning in Yibo’s direction.

Yibo tilts his head.

“You’re so earnest in some ways and so finicky in other ways that I have started to truly doubt my ability to get a read on people.”

Yibo sighs and it seems to contain an entire lifetime’s worth of weariness. 

“Sometimes I think I am living in the wrong time.” Yibo says after a while.

Xiao Zhan tilts his head in question.

“It takes me a long time to feel comfortable with people. Form attachments. But I think maybe no one really has the patience for that. Maybe if I lived in a time where my pace was a bit more normal, I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb.” Yibo turns to him now. “You have really kind eyes. I thought maybe…” he stops.

For some reason, Xiao Zhan feels choked up and he has to clear his throat as he feels his eyes fill. 

He wants to touch Yibo, hold his hand and tell him that he does not need to say anymore, that he understands. But he doesn’t. He wants to hear what else Yibo has to say, but not before he admits, “I’ve been unkind though.”

“No, not unkind. You’ve always been kind. Even when I made errors that you did not need to forgive.”

This time he does put his hand on top of Yibo’s, quite reflexively. “You’ve never done anything of the sort. Honestly.”

Then he notices his hand and pulls it back with a “Sorry.”

Yibo’s gaze drops to his hand and he stares at it. After a moment, he moves his hand forward, closer to him, and looks up. 

“You want… this is okay?” he asks, slowly putting his hand back over Yibo’s.

Yibo swallows and then nods. He stares at their joined hands and then whispers, “Most people want to touch me for other reasons.” 

He moves his thumb back and forth gently, hoping to soothe.

Yibo’s shoulders sag a bit and he leans forward onto his elbows on the table. 

They sit like that for a while before they notice the bits of fluffy white cotton flying outside.

It snows softly as they walk home. The first snowfall of the season. 

Yibo’s studio is closer than Xiao Zhan’s apartment and when they reach there, Yibo is not hesitant to ask, “You want to come up?”

“You don’t think I’ll take advantage of you?” he teases.

Yibo smiles, but says nothing else as he turns around to put the key in his lock. 

Yibo’s studio is a surprise. One wall has floating shelves with some intricate looking Lego creations, mini cars, motorcycles, and helmets. 

There is another wall that has at least nine framed photographs of various Banksy street art and he walks up closer to them to study which ones they are. 

“I thought you said you knew nothing of art.” He says, turning back.

“I’ve since taken an interest.” Yibo answers with a smile.

He looks back into the room and notices a twin bed on the side pushed against the wall and a coffee table that has a rather large Lego creation half done.

There is a loveseat on one side and a decent sized tv on the opposite wall. 

“I’m 6 feet tall, Yibo.” He says, looking at the love seat and laughing.

“Oh, you can have the bed. It’ll just take a moment to change the sheets.”

“No, stop. I won’t take the bed. I can sleep on the floor. You have a spare pillow and blanket, right?”

“I asked you to stay. I’m not having you sleep on the floor.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping on your bed. So…”

Yibo’s face falls a little and Xiao Zhan says, “Yibo, I occasionally sleep on the floor even in my room because it helps my back. I really don’t mind, but seriously, I won’t put you out of your bed.”

He can almost see that battle play out in Yibo’s head before he sighs and goes to grab an extra sheet, pillow, and blanket from his closet.

“You like living on your own?” he asks, looking around. 

“Not so much, no.” Yibo says and he looks over in surprise.

“How come?” 

“Don’t laugh.”

He narrows his eyes.

“I’m… not cool with the dark.”

Yibo looks at him like he’s waiting for him to laugh, but he doesn’t.

“So why do you live alone then?” he asks.

“I like to sleep with the light and cctv on. Most roommates won’t go for that. Don’t worry, I won’t do it tonight.” He adds the last part with a smile.

That sounded lonely. To be afraid of the dark. To feel that sort of child-like fear and to know that you’re way beyond the age to ask for someone to sleep with you. Especially if those someones would think you wanted them when all you wanted was some comfort and security.

“I don’t mind, Yibo. Leave the cctv and the nightlight on.”

“It’s alright.” Yibo says. “Just having you here is enough.”

He turns away from Yibo in the guise to looking out his window. He doesn’t know how he is going to do this. _This_ … whatever _this_ is… The boy knew how to play his heart like a violin. A sad pathetic violin. He was jumping into this with eyes wide open, knowing that there will likely be only heartache at the end of it. Yibo has plenty warned him of what he is _not_ able to give. It had been easier when he knew only that and not what he _is_ able to give. 

He texts Wen Qing to let her know that he will be out tonight. He knows that she will worry otherwise. 

Once they wash up and get in bed, they’re quiet. 

The temperature has fallen much lower. The heat is on. The blanket is enough, he thinks. At least for now. Although given that he’s lying on a sheet, he knows the floor will become cold at some point and his joints will hurt tomorrow. Maybe that’s not so bad a trade for Yibo’s nightlight and cctv. 

“Good night Yibo.” he says.

“Good night Xiao Zhan.” Yibo returns.

xxxxxx

Yibo likes sci-fis and thrillers and mellow movies and cheesy ones and black-and-white ones and wuxias, and… basically, he’s an equal opportunity employer when it comes to visual entertainment. He loves to see movies in the theaters and so they go. He’s a good skater, so they go ice-skating too, although Xiao Zhan with his long gangly legs struggle a bit to reacquaint himself with the activity. They try skiing next and snow-boarding and he enjoys all of them for the sheer fact that Yibo is a kinesthetic wonder. His body in motion is an entire law of physics unto itself. Xiao Zhan frequently watches in awe, never tiring of the ease with which Yibo picks up any activity they try. For all that though, Yibo is not that into group sports, neither for doing nor for watching. Which is just as well, as Xiao Zhan has no interest in it either.

Yibo is a terrible cook, but he is a good eater.

“Where do you pack away all this food?” he asks once, watching Yibo scarf down almost an entire plate of chicken wings that he had made.

“I’ve been led to believe I have a fast metabolism.” Yibo answers with a grin as he resumes eating.

Xiao Zhan watches with a smile. He finds that he is just like his mother in this respect, enjoying feeding someone who so appreciates his cooking. 

The semester end arrives before long and four weeks seem abominably long even though in the grand scheme of things, it’s really not.

They leave for their homes with the standard “See you after the break” although a week into it, Yibo texts him to ask, “You’re only an hour and a half from me.”

He smiles and types back, “I was just thinking that I could go for a long drive.”

They agree to meet at a small town midway between them and spends the entire day wandering around from coffee house to bookstore to bistro to park to the movies and then back to a café. By then, it’s almost 6 in the evening and it’s time to head home.

The same thing happens the next week and the next week and the next - exploring a different town each Thursday, Yibo doing extensive research on all of its offerings before they get there. 

And before long, winter break is over and they’re back on campus. By then, Xiao Zhan knows with certainty that he’s hurtling towards a cliff at sonic-speed. Spending hours and hours in Yibo’s company had not bred boredom or contempt. The opposite, in truth. Yibo is a living, breathing synonym for _sincere,_ he decides _._ Yibo’s sentiments feel like the carryover of a long-gone era. His smile, his laugh, his gaze, the slightness of his touch when sometimes he hesitantly reaches for his hand, all of it… Xiao Zhan feels like he has opened up a time capsule and discovered there is old magic inside.

But he is he. And he has never previously withheld himself so much from someone he is this… _into_ … no other verb seems to really give form and substance to what he feels for Yibo.

It’s not like they have not discussed the subject. He had brought it up once, wanting to understand rather than assume what Yibo meant when he said he may be asexual. Yibo had been reluctant to talk about it at first and he hadn’t wanted to stress him out, but when he attempted to move on from it, Yibo had started to open up. 

“It’s not that I don’t feel turned on. I do. I have been turned on by some people that I have been really attracted to as well. But, my pace seems to be much slower than theirs. Like I think I’m attracted and I may even fantasize a lot during that initial period, but once they found out that I was into it, it immediately skipped to… you know… and even though I somehow got through it, I had checked out in my head. We tried a few more times after that and each time seemed to go worse than before. After that first time, I thought maybe it was just that one relationship. A couple of years later, there was another. This one seemed more patient at first, but then it was, “I really can’t keep my hands off of you” sort of thing. Left me completely cold. It seemed exhausting to try again. Who is going to have the patience to wait ages to see if my sexual center – if I have one – will thaw out. Maybe even then, I just won’t be all that good at sex.”

He had walked away from that conversation feeling exhausted for Yibo. He didn’t know what it would feel like to want sex but get no real enjoyment from the actual thing. Crave intimacy but be prohibited from truly enjoying it because sex was somehow part of it. All of which were only complicated by the fact that he could well and truly understand all those other guys who have seen Yibo’s eyes look at them with desire. It would be a herculean task to see that and not lose your head.

He had learned that Yibo’s glasses have no power. Yibo has 20/20 vision. He had gotten into the habit of wearing glasses after his last boyfriend had told him, “Don’t look at me like that if you’re just going to turn cold at the end.” Yibo said that he was not aware that his gaze turned people on, so it seemed a good idea to add an actual physical barrier. Xiao Zhan could have told him the glasses had zero effect, in fact it likely magnified the appeal. But, of course, he didn’t. Because in all the discussion of Yibo’s sexuality, they had entirely sidestepped any discussion of what was going on between the two of them.

Which Xiao Zhan realistically took to mean a lack of interest on Yibo’s part. Yibo was this comfortable with him because he did not feel any sexual attraction to him and thought himself safe in Xiao Zhan’s trustworthy hands. 

Except he didn’t feel all that trustworthy.

But the prospect of losing Yibo once and for all sat like lead in his belly and so he did nothing to upset the boat. He only had one more semester before he graduated. And maybe that would be end of it. Why hasten the end before one needed to.

They somehow get into the habit of Xiao Zhan sleeping over at Yibo’s during the weekends. Yibo has gotten a cot for the floor, so his slumber at least is not met with early-onset arthritis when he wakes up. But still, before he goes over to Yibo’s each night, he makes sure to jerk off at least twice so he doesn’t even accidentally get a boner.

Wen Qing pulls him down for a conversation about it sometime early March. By then she has decided that she has seen enough.

He tells her somewhat haltingly what the situation is because ‘ _Complicated’_ seems to miss the mark by a mile.

“Xiao Zhan, forget the sex part, is he interested in you even otherwise? Or does he see you as just a good friend?” Ah, the million dollar question.

“Given everything you say, is it even healthy for you to spend so much time with him?” she asks. “You say that you’re okay with it, but honey, you spend so much of your spare time with him. Aside from falling for him more, how will you get out of this when either Yibo finds out how you feel or when you have to graduate?”

That’s not what he wants to hear.

Although that night at Yibo’s place, while they’re watching Bad Genius, despite it being his pick, all Xiao Zhan can think of is his earlier conversation with Wen Qing.

Yibo leans against him absently during the movie – something that he does nowadays regularly – and he holds himself still, losing his focus on the movie entirely.

He doesn’t know if Yibo notices, and even if Yibo does, he doesn’t say anything. 

After the movie is over, he cleans up the take-out boxes in an effort to keep his preoccupation and stiffness under lock and key. 

Which is made next to impossible when he hears a yelp from the bathroom and runs over to see that Yibo has nicked his jaw shaving.

Yibo washes it off, but as soon as he stands still, blood is weeping out of the wound again. 

“Hold on, hold on. You have to apply pressure.” Xiao Zhan says as he rips several squares of toilet paper and roll them up to press against the cut. 

He smiles despite himself when he sees Yibo’s expression. “You hardly have enough facial hair to attempt to use this blade. What were you thinking?” he asks.

Yibo removes his glasses.

Xiao Zhan’s smile freezes. 

Yibo’s last boyfriend had a point, he sees.

Still holding onto Yibo’s jaw with tissue, Xiao Zhan closes his eyes.

There is silence for a long pregnant moment.

And then he hears Yibo’s whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

He keeps his eyes closed and hopes that the power will go out. It seems like someone let out a secret into their midst and the air itself is the medium that will leak it out to the world.

He must have nodded because he feels the press of Yibo’s lips against his in the next instant.

There is a gasp, he is not sure if it’s his or Yibo's, but his hand falls away from Yibo's face. 

Yibo moves in to kiss him once more and he leans against the outcropping in the wall at his back. Yibo follows him in, pressing light steady kisses on his lips, those lips soft and sweet. His heart beats so hard and his hands are idle by his side and he clasps them behind his back so that they don’t surge forward and scare the doe off.

He doesn’t open his lips even though he thinks Yibo tries to make the kiss deeper, and so Yibo’s lips follow down the trail of his neck and it feels so good that a whimper escapes him.

So focused is he on clasping his hands behind his back that it takes him a while to notice that Yibo is hard against him. Fully. He holds his hips still so that they wont move. Every part of his body is stiff except his face and neck, which Yibo is sucking kisses into now, his mouth and teeth and tongue eager. 

When he feels Yibo grind against him, albeit subtle, he finally unclasps his hands to hold Yibo’s hips still.

“Yibo, my heart is beating too fast.” He drags Yibo’s hand under his t-shirt and places it over the left of his chest. He can feel it pounding, there is no way Yibo cannot feel it too. 

He can see the moment when Yibo feels it, his eyes widening in wonder.

“So, maybe… we can slow down a little?”

“Slow down?” Yibo asks, as if he did not understand those words.

He nods.

Yibo stares at him and slowly, a smile lights that face, sweet and open. 

“Slow down?” Yibo asks again.

He nods. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

The smile is fuller now and Yibo kisses him through it as he asks, “You’re not?”

He shakes his head. “I was hoping you’d let me stay.” He says.

Yibo nods, raising his head again to look at him, those eyes so close to him now that he can see himself in them. 

“Kiss me again?” He asks.

Yibo nods, leaning in. 

xxxxxx

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

In the event, you cared about such things: here’s my [twitter](https://twitter.com/deviyude)

**Author's Note:**

> I did not forget about Wang Yibo freaking out about the painting. After thinking of it over and over, I thought I should respect his need to not put it into words. But there's enough in the story to interpret his reaction as you may. - Devi
> 
> In the event you did not know, that's one of XZ's actual paintings. https://twitter.com/readerswriter/status/1206124099195400197?s=20
> 
> Muses: Yibo, Xiao Zhan, and Broken Coastline by Down Like Silver


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